


Vis-à-vis

by screamer



Series: RLBIVOB 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamer/pseuds/screamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the Jensen POV stories for the RLBIVOB 'verse, in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Pantheon

The first thing Jensen noticed was the kid's mouth. It was made of innocence, a dichotomy to the sharp, masculine line of his jaw and stubborn chin. A mouth so sweet it would do all the filthy things Jensen could imagine and still look sinless. It was an invaluable look for a whore.

Jensen had employee relations email him sweet lips’ employee file. The kid’s name was Jared something-or-other, college dropout, worked full time at the club, was never late. Good kid, money troubles. Too bad for him, but happy-fucking-birthday to Jensen.

Then, two days later, Jason Kent mixed some crack with PCP and stabbed his girlfriend six times in the face because he thought she was a monster. The goddamn irony was, it was her drugs he was out of his mind on. 

But her brothers, they didn’t think it was too funny. Fuckers had no sense of humor. It was Jensen’s mess to clean, though, so Jared and his pretty mouth had to wait for a few days.

Mark sent him a text the next morning: _his dad’s doing time in Mass._

Jensen owed it to Mark, making the connection between Padalecki Sr. and the new club boy. Jensen hadn’t been looking, he didn’t care. The Jade Room didn’t hire addicts or criminals, it had a distance to maintain. Beyond that, Jensen wasn’t curious. 

But if it was there, it was there. _Get me what you can._

Jared asked him, years later, what Jensen thought about him that night. Jensen was only half-reluctant to admit all he thought about was fucking Jared’s perfect pink mouth, coming down his throat. 

_“Well, you got it,” Jared said._

_“Wasn’t all I got.”_

The kid with the pretty mouth was wearing skin-tight gold pants that showed off the curve of his perfect ass, the curve of his soft cock, no place to hide it in that outfit. Slender, almost skinny, but with all the right curves, like someone had made him with Jensen in mind. Dark hair curled at that stubborn jaw, against his smooth throat. He looked up at Jensen, eyes wide through the smoke and neon lights, soft lips parting like it was oral sign language. To Jensen it was.

_“You’re such a pervert,” Jared said, all those years later._

_“Suck my dick,” Jensen said._

_“Don’t think you can get it up again, geriatric.”_

The kid was tall as a fucking tree, glitter sparking on the smooth skin of his shoulders and over his cheekbones. He looked like a young god, but his expression was uncomfortable like this was a party he didn’t want to be at. Every single thing about it turned Jensen the fuck on. 

It didn’t take much to get the boy on his knees. He spread his thighs for balance, showing off that pretty package between his legs. He had no fucking clue what he was doing, couldn’t even figure out where to put his hands, and Jensen hoped that meant the innocent look of his mouth was the genuine article. 

“You’ll learn,” Jensen assured him. _On my cock. Gonna fuck every lesson down your throat._

Jared’s dark head of hair had picked up some of the gold, flaking down to the kid’s thick lashes, a perfect picture framed by Jensen’s legs. The kid was intent on what he was doing, so serious, so ready to do a good job. Jensen liked a whore with a work ethic. 

The kid nuzzled his face against Jensen’s cock, sliding his nose and lips over the fabric of Jensen’s boxers, and Jensen didn’t rush him. It had been a motherfucker of a week, he needed something nice to take the edge off. 

When the kid finally got around to taking Jensen’s cock out, Jensen reached for his head, running his fingers into silky hair. Plenty long enough to get a good, hard grip on. 

Then the kid found Jensen’s cock piercing, and his pink tongue jumped back, hie eyes blinking open in surprise. It turned him on, Jensen could see that. The little slut couldn’t look away, breathing warm and heavy over Jensen’s cock. Didn’t want to admit it, though. Probably ashamed of where he was and what he was doing. White teeth dug into his pink bottom lip and Jensen was done waiting.

The kid couldn’t give a blow job worth shit, but Jensen didn’t need technique. Fucking Jared’s hot mouth - his perfect, smartass mouth - was the best Jensen had all week. When he pulled out the kid was gulping and gasping, throat spasming as he fought his gag reflect, wet mouth open, a string of come and saliva running down his chin. Jared turned his eyes up to Jensen, the unusual color even brighter through tears. Misery, but defiance, too. The kid’s hands were shaking as he tucked Jensen’s cock away, but his face was schooled into pretend calm.

They were done, and Jensen watched the kid and his tight, round ass go, dragging a wounded pride.

Cute kid. Jensen would have to make time to fuck him again.


	2. The Verge

Mark steps outside, backlit for a second, then a moving shadow. Jensen waits till he’s close before he asks, “Where’s Jared?”

Apropos of nothing, but Mark doesn’t ask, just peels off the latex gloves before he reaches for his phone. Jensen doesn’t know who Mark texts or calls to pin Jared down—maybe he just has Jared’s schedule entered into his phone. 

While Mark’s doing his Jared-tracking thing, Jensen lights up, takes a long, cleansing inhale. He can still smell shit and blood. The scent is on his clothing. He needs a shower, a drink, a meal. But mostly, he wants a fuck. 

“Jade Room,” Mark says. “Gets off at three.”

Jensen’s already stripping off his coat. He throws it over the roof of the car, takes one last drag of his cigarette, drops it on the wet gravel and dirt. He yanks his shirt off over his head. “Finish up here. I’m driving myself.” 

“Got it handled.” Mark’s boots crunch on gravel, the door squeaks open and thuds shut. 

Jensen makes it to the club by one-thirty. He smells less like death and more like someone Jared will fuck. Jensen’s already half hard just thinking about it, anticipating. He stops one of the waiters, a girl in a slut costume, gold glitter all over her bare shoulders. Jensen could do something with that, but not while he’s got Jared backed up in his system. 

“Send Jared back to the red VIP.”

She doesn’t question it. “Yes, Mr. Ackles.” She’s flirting on reflex, doesn’t really mean it.

Jensen stops her with a hand on her wrist. “With some lube.”

Jensen watches her leave, tight ass and long legs. Maybe later. After Jared. 

If Jensen could, he’d keep McNulty business away from his clubs. Someday that’ll be a call he can make, but in the meantime there’s the red room. It hasn’t been tested, but Jensen is pretty fucking sure he could empty a gun into someone’s head while the club was full and no one outside the room would be the wiser. None of the other VIP rooms are soundproof, and like the rest of the club they’re all wired for video and audio. It separates the patsies from the players. 

Jensen pours himself four fingers of Highland, adds rocks as an afterthought. He doesn’t taste it, but drinks it anyway. 

There’s one criteria for the club staff. Jensen laid it out simple. Find the prettiest people and dress them like whores. Everyone on the floor looks like an expensive prostitute, and every thirsty motherfucker in the place wants a piece. Whether they get it or not, they’ll be back again to watch and fantasize.

Jensen doesn’t pick the uniforms, whatever some people think. He doesn’t care all that much, but when Jared walks in wearing mostly glitter, he can feel his fucking heartbeat in his dick. He only notices Jared’s wearing leather shorts because they’re blocking his view of Jared’s cock. Jared’s got gold glitter over his jaw. Shoulders. Chest. His nipple are little gold nubs. The furrows, that V the leads straight to his dick, are highlighted in red. Jesus fucking Christ. Jensen _needs._

Jared’s stomach moves as he breathes and the glitter reflects the lights over the bar.   
He’s watching Jensen, waiting. 

“Strip.” Jensen can already see in his mind the shorts coming down, Jared’s soft cock, tight balls swinging free between his thighs.

Jared stands on one foot to pull off the motorcycle boots Jensen only now sees he’s wearing. It annoys him—just one more delay. When Jared gets those off, his shorts are too fucking tight to just drop, he has to work them down over his hips, push them to his knees before they fall.

The glitter goes all the way down to base of Jared’s dick, down the shaft and into the crease of his thigh. Jensen doesn’t move, and as he watches, Jared’s cock twitches against his thigh. The fucking glitter probably get everywhere. 

“Are we using this or did I just bring it for show.”

Jensen drags his gaze to Jared’s hand and the bottle of lube. And that reminds him he wants to see — “Turn around.”

Jared turns, short, tight movements. He trying to make it less sexual, he has not idea the way he plants his feet shows his tight little ass off to Jensen — his ass and the glitter streaked down his back, into the top of his crack. 

Jensen half turns, reaches for the bottle of scotch. “Over here. Back up against the bar.”

Up close Jared smells like sweat, plastic and some blend of alcohol and artificial flavors. Jensen wants to wash it off him, and there’s flash of irritation at Jared for coming to him like this. He realizes, he should fire Jared. 

“You want a drink?”

“I’m working.” Jared sounds so fucking young, when you don’t see all that height.

“I’m your boss. Special dispensation.”

“. . . Okay. Sure.”

Jensen smiles, pours another drink, slides it over to Jared. Maybe he’ll take the kid home after they fuck. Make a night of it. 

Jared’s takes the glass, eyes on Jensen as he raises it to his lips. Jensen drops his gaze to Jared’s cock, still lying half-hard against his thigh, flecks of glitter all down his leg, then back to his lips. Jared’s tongue comes out, licks over the bottom, then the top, self-conscioue. His eyes are moving. He’s not sure what Jensen wants. And that is exactly what Jensen wants. 

When Jensen grabs Jared’s hips and hefts him up onto the bar Jared throws one hand out behind him, grips Jensen’s arm with the other. “What’re—?”

“Shut up.” Jensen brushes a thumb over Jared’s mouth. Wet, parted lips. Jared’s uncomfortable, tense. Jensen can feel the twitching muscles in his legs, pressed against Jensen’s hips. He strokes a hand up Jared’s leg, fingers under the edge of his ass. Yeah, the fucking glitter is everywhere. He cups Jared’s balls and Jared makes a grunting sound, his cock twitching. 

Jensen presses Jared back, comes down with his forearms over his hips, Jared’s legs splayed wide past his shoulders. Jensen could flip him and have a face-full of sweet college kid ass. 

Jensen’s pulse is heavy, jumping under his ribs, throbbing in his groin. He bites down on the tight skin over Jared’s hip, finds the plastic smell is coming from the glitter, but under it he smells Jared. Jensen drags his lips over hot skin, noses up against the root of Jared’s cock. 

He doesn’t pay much attention to the dicks of guys he fucks, especially if they want him to. But right now Jared’s moving, trying to hold back noises like the noisy fuck he is. Jensen grins, feels Jared’s hard-on move against his jaw, and he turns and drags his mouth up the length of it. Glitter flakes off, sticking to his skin.

“Shit,” Jared gasps, and Jensen pulls back. Jared’s watching him with naked hope and a little disbelief. Jensen laughs. Christ, the kid is so transparent. 

Jensen slaps his hip, suddenly impatient. “Turn over.” 

Jared gets his hands under himself and rolls gingerly, trying to protect his boner. Now Jensen’s got Jared’s long back, the deep groove of his spine leading to his ass. Jensen palms one side, grips it as he slides his thumb into the cleft, warm, humid skin. When he brushes over Jared’s hole, the kid jumps. It’s that kind of shit that makes Jensen want to hold Jared down, really feel he struggle. That newness Jared’s going to lose, someday. 

Jensen picks up Jared’s drink with his free hand, finishes it off as he works his thumb over the kid’s asshole. He gets the lube open, squirts a nice generous puddle onto the small of Jared’s back. He uses two fingers, then three, and last shoves in both thumbs to pulls the slick, pink skin taut. He’s not gentle and every time Jared flinches or makes a noise, Jensen’s dick throbs a hot, painful ache. By the time he unzips and pulls it out, he’s wound so fucking tight he knows once wont do it. Not tonight. 

He fucks Jared hard, comes fast. Doesn’t pull out when he drags Jared off the bar, puts him on his hands and knees. When he looks down, the root of his cock, the condom, the front of his hips are plastered with glitter. The lube leaking out around his dick and over Jared’s balls is flecked with gold. 

“You’re shitting glitter,” he says, and Jared grunts something unintelligible. 

Jensen rakes his fingernails down Jared’s back, watches furrows appear. He can’t put his mouth anywhere without getting the shit fucking all over. For second he consider, pumps his hips into Jared’s hot, tight ass a few times before pulling out reluctantly. 

Immediate gratification is a reward in and of itself. People pay shit loads of money for that alone. Jensen’s doesn’t see the merit of waiting. Not usually, but sometimes . . .

When he gets Jared into the shower, pushes him back under the stream of water, using his hands to hurry away the gold coating, Jensen’s there, one hundred percent. And for a while, Jared is the only thing that exists.


	3. I keep what I can, you take the rest

Jensen liked doing business with self-indulgent people. It made them easy to lead, easy to entertain. Easy to dispose of. Luke Overton was a piece of shit, but better, he was weak. Jensen knew how hard Mike could yank that hook once it was set. He did his part by playing fairy-god-dealer.

Overton liked little girls who cried and begged for him to stop as he held them down and fucked them. He liked it even better when he could share them with his brother-in-law, Ryan. So that’s what Jensen got him. 

Camille and Allison were unrelated, but reconstructive surgery had turned them into identical twins. Big money maker. They also looked fifteen. Michael didn’t let anyone earn with kids, but Overton didn’t know that and no one was going to tell him. 

Camille and Allison were Tommy’s girls, and one of his guys brought them over to the house. He escorted them right up to Overton like they had to be herded or they’d break and run.

“Lilly, Tara,” Jensen pointed out the girls to Luke and Ryan. Both girls were looking away, playing shy and scared. They were so short, their shiny heads barely came to Overton’s chest. Luke and his Ryan were probably leaking in their pants. It must be hard to be a pedophile on an ADA’s salary. 

Luke Overton reached for Camille, hesitated, looked at Jensen for permission. Jensen nodded a _go ahead_. Tommy’s guy shadowed Overton and the his brother-in-law as they took the girls upstairs. 

If Overton outlived his usefulness, Jensen looked forward to shooting him between his froggy eyes.

“So that’s what it means to be the number two. Pimping kids to a couple of diddlers.”

Nero was there, wandering in from nowhere as usual. The guy was dressed in jeans and ratty sneakers. He looked like shit, in the middle of a perpetual hangover. 

Jensen shrugged, and headed for the diningroom sideboard. “Who doesn’t enjoy it.”

“I might. You don’t.”

Jensen sloshed some bourbon into a glass. He hadn’t slept in going on thirty hours. It was getting to him. “Yeah, you don’t know shit about what I like.” 

“I’m kind of wondering about that.” 

“No one asked you.”

“Look at all these lovely specimens.” Nero did a slow hand sweep to include the whole house, the naked boys and girls Jensen could see through the open deck doors where the hot tub was.

“Either you finally stuck your dick in the wrong mouth and are now – ” Nero made a snipping motion.

Jensen laughed. Nero needed a real job, a real life. Retirement didn’t look good on him. It made him too fucking nosey.

“Or you’re tastes have changed,” Nero said, followed it with a sharp, crackling cough. 

“Might want to lay off that stuff,” Jensen said, tilting his glass towards Nero’s drink. “Maybe take your own advice, get yourself one of these whores, have yourself a good time. It’s on the house.”

Nero chuckled, coughed again. Guy was a goddamn mess.

The kitchen was the only place in the house that didn’t stink of sex and alcohol, didn’t have naked, writhing bodies. This is was the kind of shit Jensen could do without, but it was part of the job, entertaining, supplying vices. Nothing cemented a partnership more than little bit of illegal fun. Jamie did it better, but Jensen was learning the balance.

Jensen pulled out his phone and opened his contacts. Jared’s number had been on the list since the night Jensen fucked him. Jensen had only used it once. 

The kid had pulled back, but it wasn’t because he’d lost interest. The money had pissed him off, Jensen could see that, but there was something else going on, too. Jensen had given him some space, but now he was getting that feeling he got right before his target bolted. Whatever Jared was up to, it was taking him in a direction that was away from Jensen. If Jensen wanted the kid he would have to make a move now.

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ He should put Jared behind him weeks ago. And here he was planning to get the kid back in his bed. He never let this kind of shit fuck with his head. This fucking kid. 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket without sending a text. 

Twenty-two hours later, Jensen picked the shitty lock on Jared’s apparent door, glancing down the dingy hall before ducking inside and pulling the door shut. He slipped the picks into his jacket pocket, straightening his cuffs as he strolled through the tiny apartment. 

There wasn’t much to see. Jensen checked the mini refrigerator - half a jar of peanut butter, two oranges and a bottle of salad dressing. The blinds were shut against the night and half the light bulbs in the apartment were bunt out. The hall creaked under Jensen’s footsteps. The bedroom was bare expect for the bed and a wooden stool that was serving as a side table. 

Jensen frowned. The whole place was a shit hole. Jared deserved better. He needed someone who could give him better.

Jared’s laptop was sitting at the end of bed, half hidden by the balled up blankets. Jensen left it there and moved on the bathroom. He’d check it out later. Whatever Jared was up to would probably be easier to get straight from him., but if there was something to find Jensen would find it. 

The bathroom was as dim as the rest of the place, tiny and windowless. Jensen’s face flashed in the medicine cabinet mirror as he opened the cupboard. Ibuprofen. Toothpaste. Shaving cream. Rubbing alcohol. No condoms or lube. 

Jensen shut the cabinet and swung the bathroom door closed, kicking a damp towel out of the way. The wastebasket was half full and Jensen picked it up, setting it on the toilet seat. Candy wrappers. Jensen smiled, remembering the taste of cheap, sugary flavor from Jared’s mouth. Fuck, he missed that. 

Jensen tilted the container, shaking it. Something caught his eye, and for a second he couldn’t place it. 

Reaching in and plucking the pregnancy test from the rest of the trash knocked the candy wrappers aside and . . .

 _Goddammit._ There was a whole fucking flock of them, and they were all positive. 

Jared was pregnant. 

The thoughts came simultaneously: so that explained why Jared was acting cagey. 

The baby was Jensen’s.

Jensen dropped the stick back in the garbage and turned towards the closed bathroom door. Yellow light on dingy tile, cracked paint. It was shit hole, the kind of place Jensen hated more because it pretended to be a home. He should have kept Jared with him. Why the fuck hadn’t he?

Then, for a second, Jensen entertained the thought it wasn’t his. Maybe Jared had been fucking other people for money. Gotten knocked up by some john.

He could look into it. Probably should. But his gut told him no. 

Jared was pissed about the money. He didn’t get his way, so he quit taking Jensen’s calls. He didn’t want to be a whore, he wanted to be a . . . something else. Something permanent. Because of the baby. He’d been waiting for Jensen to realize, to step up. Fuck. How had he missed that?

Jared could keep the baby. It was Jared, and Jared was something Jensen was going to invest in. The kid fought against things he wanted, fought just to fight. But a baby? That changed things.

Jensen grinned and shook the trash back into place, returning the wastebasket behind the door. Back in the kitchen he lit up a cigarette and settled in to wait for Jared. 

— 

Jared was late, and he looked like shit. Too thin, tired. Upset about something. Didn’t matter, though. Not anymore. Jensen was going to get him out of the shitty apartment, shitty job. 

He was tired, maybe a little jumpy, but he was eyeing Jensen’s cock, just the same. Probably worried about how Jensen would take the baby news. 

Good news. Jensen never thought he’d feel that way about a baby. 

“You’re an asshole,” Jared said, twisting away, soft hair sliding out of Jensen’s grip. Trying to cover up by acting pissed. It was cute. 

“I can be a lot of things.” I can be everything for you, now. Everything you need. 

Jared skin tasted like burnt coffee and sweat, soft and warm under Jensen’s mouth. His pulse beat hard against Jensen’s tongue. Jesus, how long had it been?

Jared under him, tight little ass, narrow hips. Jensen stroked his thumb over the top of Jared ass, savoring the moment because he didn’t have to. 

Jared, moving back against him. Making so fucking much noise. Everything Jensen did came out of the kid’s mouth. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, knowing so completely. Knowing the person he was fucking. Knowing for certain this was worth it. Jared was whining and cursing when Jensen pulled him down to the floor, his cock stiff and leaking all over his shirt. 

Jared reached to get himself off, and Jensen stopped him. “Not like that.” 

Jensen didn’t suck cock. He sure as fuck didn’t go down on whores. Maybe Jared wasn’t. Just a horny kid with money troubles and not enough shame. But now he was Jensen’s. Only Jensen’s. None of the other shit mattered.

Jensen didn’t suck cock for fun, but goddamn he was good at it. When Jared came, he looked like he was in the middle of the best ever drug trip.

— 

Jared didn’t cuddle, he sprawled. Draped. Warm skin and soft hair, so unguarded and vulnerable.   
Jared was fighting to stay awake, Jensen could feel the sweep heavy lashes against his skin.

“Guess you’re not a night person anymore.” This time was the high hour at the club, drinking tipping over into fucking. Fucking up. 

“Have to work at five on weekdays.” Jared’s breath blew warm over Jensen stomach. 

Shitty hours for a job with no future. 

“Go to sleep.”

He’d probably have to tell Jared to quick, the kid was too fucking stubborn. Or maybe he just needed something solid. Proof of what Jensen was giving him. Forever was bullshit, and commitment was commitment without a ring. But maybe Jared needed it. Some people seemed to. 

“You staying?”

Jared’s head was a warm weight over Jensen’s ribs, his breath shivering over Jensen’s bare skin. Keep it there. 

Jensen worked his fingers up under Jared hair at the back of his neck, where it grew short and soft. “Yeah, I’m staying.”


	4. Kill Switch

“So get it under control . . .”

Jensen’s phone rang mid sentence. 

“ . . . or someone else will be doing your fucking job,” he finished as he pulled his phone out and checked the number. Mark. 

Jared.

“What is it,” Jensen answered. 

_”Jared’s on his way to Methodist Medical.”_

Jesus Christ. “What happened.”

 _“He tried to leave, things got a little rough. Next second he’s saying he’s in pain.”_ A pause, and Jensen drew a breath, icy in his throat. The phantom weight of a gun against his palm. 

_“He might have been faking, I couldn’t tell.”_

“Stay with him, keep me updated. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

_“Yeah.”_

Mark ended the call, and for a moment Jensen didn’t move. _Get to Jared,_ his instincts said. If it was something serious . . .

“Finish this up,” Jensen said, terse. 

— 

“He’s gone.”

Mark met Jensen as he got out of the car. He had his phone out, ready to call. “They wouldn’t tell me anything about his condition, but he walked out there and they let him.”

Jensen shouldered Mark out of the way, heading towards the hospital’s front entrance. 

It was ten minutes wasted. Jared was perfectly fine. He was also gone. Jensen left the hospital with a slow tension building across his shoulders, in the base of his skull. A need to fuck something up.

“Find him.” Jensen didn’t wait for Mark to acknowledge, slammed the car door in Mark’s face as it pulled away. There was one place Jensen knew to look. 

The drive to Hilary’s hotel was too long. _Goddammit, Jared. Why did you have to do this._ He’d been safe at the apartment. God _dammit_. Jensen should have delivered Hilary to the Kings himself. Would have if he’d known this shit would happen. Jared was probably with her now, ready to be caught in the crossfire. 

Jensen was out of the car as it rolled to a stop, shoving through the hotel’s front doors. The couple in the elevator moved out of his way when he leaned in front of them to press the floor button. 

The hallway was empty and Jensen knocked on the room door once, twice. Stepped back, and for a second considered the feel of the door slamming open under his kick. He turned and walked back to the elevator. 

“Excuse me,” Jensen caught one of the receptionist's attention. Looked her in the eyes, smiled. “Could you give number 235 a call? She’s not answering her cell and I was supposed to meet her.” Jensen lifted his wrist, checking his watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“Sure can,” she smiled back. Her eyes kept darting to Jensen as she made the call, listened for a long moment, then hung up. “They’re not answering. Are you – ”

“She must have left already. Forties, about five-ten, brown hair?”

The girl was shaking her head, but her co-worker butted in. “Yeah. Short hair? Silver and green phone case?”

“That’s her.”

“Yeah, she left.”

Jensen groaned, made a self-depreciating face. “God. We were supposed to ride together, and I never got an address.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” The girl was gazing up at Jensen. Pretty, wide eyes, parted lips. Completely fucking useless. 

“Maybe you could help me . . .” Jensen pulled his phone out, bringing up a picture of Jared from the funeral, Jensen standing behind him. “Has this guy been around here today?”

Both of the receptionists took a long time looking. 

“No, I don’t think so?”

“No. Sorry, but can I just say, you look good together.”

— 

Jensen was calling Dekker when his phone rang.

“Yeah.”

It was Rick. “Boss, we have something.” 

His tone of voice told Jensen before he said it. 

— 

“Who are you?” The cop was seconds from losing his teeth, his whole fucking jaw. 

“Jensen Ackles. Jared’s my fiancé.”

It was a white van that pulled up beside Jared and Hilary. Masks, two witnesses said. Right in front of the fucking police station. 

“ . . . strange or unusual lately?”

The cops had Hilary’s purse. The kidnappers had thrown it out before driving away. The van was no good. They would have changed their vehicle almost immediately. 

“ . . .possible motives . . .”

Erik Hames was the youngest nephew of Douglas King. Word was he was the one who handled his uncle’s incentives business. 

“When we have something - you’ll know as soon as we do, Mr. Ackles.”

— 

“I thought King knew Jared was off limits.”

“He knows.”

“Then he just fucked us up the ass.”

“You’re sure this was King.”

“Well, I’m about to find out if it wasn’t.”

Jensen hung up before Mike could respond. 

He looked at Dekker. “Fine me this piece of shit.”

— 

Erik found himself. Walked right into a strip club in Boston South and started browsing for takeout. 

“When he leaves, where’s he going?”

“His cousin has a house in Weston. Whitey goes there when he wants to hole up with a girl.”

“Make sure he gets a girl.”

Twenty minutes out of Logan airport and Jensen was ready to feel someone’s bones break under his boots. Jared had been gone for six hours and so many minutes. Nothing was right. 

The lights were on at the house, bright on the backyard fountain, marking the drive. Jensen went in straight through the back, Mark and Casey behind him. There was no warning, the dogs came out of nowhere. Pitbulls, heavy and muscled, ears and tails cropped. One got a hold on Casey’s arm before Mark put a bullet in its head. The falling water was louder than the suppressed shots. 

Casey was bleeding. He looked at Jensen, nodded. 

The back door was unlocked. The foyer lights were on. Jensen went in ready for it to be shit storm and found a dead hooker on the kitchen floor. 

They swept the house, the garage, the grounds. Erik’s car was still there. Erik was gone. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen whispered. Through the entryway he could see the girl lying in a pool of blood, her blonde hair soaked red. 

Dekker was examining the body. “This looks like King trying to clean his mess.” 

Jensen had to agree. That would mean King pretending he’d never touched Jared or Hilary, had nothing to do with their kidnaping. That meant making them disappear forever. 

It wasn’t panic that lined Jensen’s stomach. It wasn’t panic, but it was something close.

“We’ve got a car,” Mark said, standing to one side of the window, sneaking a look out. 

— 

Jensen never got the guy’s name. He was one of Erik’s, familiar enough to come swaggering in to the house, ready to report a job well done. Mark and Steiner took him down without a noise. Face down on the livingroom carpet, arms pinned by Steiner, he writhed like a giant slug. 

“Listen up,” Jensen said softly, crouched down in front of the guy. “I’m a little impatient tonight, so make this easy for me, and I’ll make it easy for you.” Jensen nodded to Mark. “Let him talk.”

Mark let go of the guy’s throat and he gagged and gasped, drooling all over his bushy beard. 

“Where’s Erik?”

The guy gasped and rolled his eyes around, trying to get a look at the room with Steiner still holding his head. 

“Every question you don’t answer - or if I don’t like your answer - you lose a finger.”

Mark flipped his knife open and the guy started struggling again. “I don’t know where he is!”

“Not sure I like that answer.”

“Fuck you!”

The guy wouldn’t be hard to break, given time. Jensen didn’t have time. 

“Mark.”

The guy didn’t make any noise, trying to break free. Mark pinned his hand to the floor with one foot, taking the last finger in one clean cut. The guy made a whining, sobbing sound through gritted teeth. At leas he wasn't a screamer.

“Where’s Hilary Padalecki?”

No answer. The guy wailed when Mark took the second finger and then Jensen’s temper was gone. They didn’t have the time, _Jared_ didn’t have the time. 

“Cut his dick off.”

Mark had a knee on the guy’s neck and Steiner was yanking his pants down. “Last chance,” Jensen said, and Mark eased up enough to let the guy talk.

The guy gave a few dry heaves, rasp out, “Virginia.”

“Keep going.”

— 

They drove from New York. 

Four hours, a pack of cigarettes. Sitting still was wrong. Under the seats there was a duffle bag of Jared’s clothes, a first aid kit; there was bleach and body bags. Jensen might need both, would definitely use one.

Google earth showed the grey square of a building and a shit ton of trees. One road in, one road out. Five a.m., it was a total blackout, not a single light around, dawn still waiting. Good place for a hide out, bad place for an ambush. As soon as they hit gravel, it was a countdown. 

The whole fucking thing was a countdown, trying to get ahead of King sweeping up after his nephew. Jared might already be dead. 

No windows on the building. Didn’t fucking matter now, they were going to smash their way in. “Tactical explosive breaching” Mark called it. Dynamic entry. Fucking cop talk. 

The guns were mounted with lights, keeping eyes adjusted to light, or showing where to shoot in the dark. The second the door was clear, Jensen was inside. The whole place was lit up bright, everything sharp and clear. And there was Jared, covered in blood. 

(Four targets, grouped together. Car, possible cover. Shop table, shotgun. Parked motorbike. Open entryway, door, door.)

On of the targets moved his hand back, reaching for a gun at the same moment Jensen shot him. Body shot, high center of the chest. Jared was right there, right in the middle of them, and it was setting Jensen’s blood roaring, everything hanging in second’s action. _Get them away from Jared._

Jared was looking, eyes moving, then staring straight at Jensen. One of the targets moved in on Jared, looking for a shield. Jensen shot him three times in the chest, nice tight grouping, and the guy was down. 

Jared flinched, and Jensen saw the body lying in Jared’s lap was Hilary. God fucking dammit. 

He stepped in, blocking Jared from the rest of the room. One of the targets, bleeding out from a hole over his hip, started screaming. Mark stepped up beside him, gun aimed, but Jensen moved first. Two shots to the head. 

“Christ,” Steiner said. It was a huge fucking mess. 

Dekker and Mark were sweeping the building, and Jensen turned to Jared. The kid was covered in blood, and he looked pale. The silence in Jensen’s head started breaking up, a fast, ticking jumble of sound. Jared wasn’t moving, wasn’t really looking anymore, just staring. When Jensen tried to move him, get him out from under the body, he was stiff, resistant.

Jared’s shirt was soaked in blood, Jensen’s glove slid over wet skin trying to get the cloth away, be careful, get the fucking cloth out of the way. Smeary red, no wounds. Arms bloody, but whole. 

_He's okay, he's okay._ An odd, sick relief flooded Jensen, one he hadn't known he was waiting for. He cradled Jared’s head, damp hair curling over his gloved fingers.

Steiner stepped away from the bodies, looking over at Jared and Jensen. “Okay?”

“He’s okay,” Jensen said. He was okay, the baby was okay. “Get this cleaned up. Find a phone.”

He’d made the retrieval, now it was time for payback.

— 

“You ever put him in danger again, you’ll have earned that bullet.”

Mark looked at Jensen, gaze steady. “Understood, boss.”


End file.
